


Merlin’s most baggy Y Fronts

by Mischiefy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, He tickles, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, I'm warning you, Merlin is a Little Shit, Merlin is not happy, People like to talk about Merlin's pants, This Is STUPID, he wants to be left alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 09:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischiefy/pseuds/Mischiefy
Summary: Ronald looked up at his wife, dumbfounded “You think I’m…offending him? And he’s tickling me in retaliation?”Hermione shrugged “I would be pretty offended, honestly, if some guy went around talking about my y-fronts”





	Merlin’s most baggy Y Fronts

**Author's Note:**

> Alright- this is stupid. You've been warned. This is so, so stupid but I absolutely LOVED writing it.  
> Honestly, this thing wouldn't leave me alone, I just HAD to write it down, somehow.  
> I hope you at least get a smile out of it:)  
> -Unbeta'd-

Merlin had settled in quite happily into his afterlife- he’d found a nice little place for himself, right next to a clear, vast lake that looked suspiciously like Avalon's.

The door to his hut was always open, of course, so that his friends could come visiting anytime they fancied it.

It had been nice to see them again, every and each of them, after so much time. Meeting Arthur again, in particular, had been such a _joy_. Insufferable _prat_ , that one.

So- really, Merlin was faring quite well- better, at any rate, than he had fared most of his life.

There was only one, tiny …issue- it was a little thing, of course, and he didn’t really mind it, but still…

The fact was that every time the livings mention a deceased’s name, said deceased feels a small twitch in his or her heart, or in whatever part of his/her the living had mentioned.

It had been done, they’d told him when he’d inquired, in order for the deads to know when their families need to feel their presence closer.

It was, Merlin supposed, a sound enough method: someone you love mentions your name because they miss you, you go watch over this someone to make them feel your presence.

Simple end efficient, really.

And he wouldn’t have any problem with this system, had it not been for the entire wizarding world.

He did not know how, he did not know why – _why, oh why_ \- nor when, but wizards and witches had apparently taken a liking at him _without even knowing him_!

In a whole lot of 100 years, his personal afterlife, his nice little corner of heaven, had become a hell, a _twitching_ hell.

His beard, he mused, hadn’t stood still for longer than one miserable second in more than one thousand years!

He’d had to shave it off in the end, to Arthur’s great satisfaction and fulfillment.

It was a bloody nightmare!

But the worst had come when someone –he didn’t know who, but if he ever got them….- mentioned his pants – _which, really, aren’t anyone’s business but his own_.

From that moment on, he’d stopped wearing pants at all, because they would wiggle and twitch every bloody minute of every day!

He’d started wearing, instead, something Gwaine had once called y-fronts.

They apparently didn’t qualify as pants, so he had been safely wearing them for the last two hundred years.

That’s when things got _ugly, ugly, ugly_ \- courtesy of one Ronald Bilius Weasley, who apparently had nothing better to do than speculate over what kind of undergarments Merlin wore in his own bloody afterlife.

When even his y-fronts had started _vibrating-_ and, for the records, they’re not baggy _at all_. He’s still in a 20-years-old’s body, thank you very much- Merlin decided he’d had enough.

He stood up in a huff and marched towards the screen which showed the mortal realm, sitting down cross-legged in front of it.

Now, technically it should have been impossible for a dead soul to practice magic which had effects on the livings.

 _Technically_.

What happened, however, was that Merlin started, with that stubborn glare of his, to send across to Mr. Weasley every course known to men, and while most of them simply dissolved when they entered in contact with the screen’s surface, there was one which made it.

 _The tickling hex_ , to be exact.

Merlin spent days sending tickling hexes to Ronald Weasley, every bloody time the guy mentioned Merlin’s own y-fronts.

It had been Mr. Weasley’s wife the one who had offered an explanation to Ron as to why, exactly, he’d started to tickle every time he cursed.

“Ronald, don’t you think that you really shouldn’t be mentioning Mr. Merlin’s Y-front? You seem to happen to tickle every time you as much as think about them.”

Ronald looked up at his wife, dumbfounded “You think I’m…offending him? And he’s _tickling_ me in retaliation?”

Hermione shrugged with a frown “I would be pretty offended, honestly, if some guy went around talking about my y-fronts”

Ron studied her thoughtfully.

“Alright,” he said, slowly “I’ll try not to talk about them anymore”

Merlin, from his spot up there in the sky, leaned back, a satisfied smile on his lips.


End file.
